𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 , 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

𝗶𝗶. 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
[𝐢𝐢. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰]
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 , 2700

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The low hum of the engine hummed within the walls while the rhythmic thud of wheels passing over joints created an uncomfortable cadence.

Wren sat cross legged on the silky sheets draped over a mattress of such luxury, the red head swore it must have been stuffed with swan feathers or some other rare animal.

Her eyes were glued towards the sleek television set that boasted a high definition display of the reaping from each district.

The screen, encased in an intricate frame, was the only sort of light in the carriage Wren had been designated.

Night had fallen, leading Wren and Niko a step towards game day.

"Of course, we'll be paying a visit to District One first..."

Wren began to pay attention at Ceaser Flickerman's introduction. Knowledge held just as much power as strength. Wren needed to gather as much information about her opponents if she wanted to keep Niko alive.

District one had a very different view on these games than the others. At least that's what it looked like to someone who wasn't smart enough to see through the facade.

The Capitol's camera captured every detail. The escort, a flamboyant figure, carried out his job with the same mannerisms Cherry had, something Wren picked up on and in doing so, softened her opinions towards Cherry.

The first tribute was called, she stepped forward with an uneven ratio of pride and trepidation. The camera zoomed in, awaiting the crumbs of anything that would appease the audience.

Isadora Velvet was her name, her striking features and piercing azure eyes projected an air of regal confidence. She was well kept, well looked after, well trained.

The second tribute, Sebastian Valor, carried himself with unmistakable arrogance. It was clear this was a long time coming for him. Tall and broad-shouldered with defined muscles, he looked the perfect warrior. But, there was something that Wren noticed. Something that dented his deadly appearance.

As the camera focused on the boy, something stuck out. A barely noticeable scar on his left hand, though he'd attempt to conceal it, one District Eight girl had very quickly acknowledged it and if she had that easily, the rest of the tributes had done the same.